Jason Voorhees is the name of (in)famous hockey-masked, machete-wielding mad slasher of the Friday the 13th horror movie franchise. In Friday the 13th: A New Beginning (1985), we get to see an actress named Debi Sue Voorhees nude just before Jason Vorhees dispatches her to the Unhappy Camping Ground at bloody blade-point. Could their shared surname be a co-skin-cidence? Perhaps, perhaps not. We prefer to ponder the latter option. Could the killer instinct of Jason Voorhees — in this particular skincident — have been trigged by feelings of skincest that were unleashed upon his peeping out of those stupid hockey-holes to eyeball Debi Sue Voorhees nude? Just imagine that poor homicidal hulk stumbling upon Debi Sue Voorhees naked, suddenly confronted by her glowing good looks, her rosy-cheeked facial perfection, her inherently arousing erotic allure and — breast of all — Debi Sue Voorhee’s enormously natural dairy-bomb boobs, which swing to and fro with titillating abandoned and are topped to perfection by ripe, round, pants-pleasingly plump pink nipples. What if it were you out there in the New Jersey wilderness like Jason Voorhees? Just envision yourself stalking the very same campgrounds where careless horn-dog summertime counselors once allowed you to drown years earlier, thereby dooming you to dwell in an undead, un-killable state of agony that can only be momentarily alleviated by exacting lethal revenge on all subsequent teen couples who dare to canoodle in the vicinity. Would you be driven murderously mad by the volcanically voluptuous visage of Debi Sue Voorhees’ nude knockers in a state of sensually erect arousal? Would you lose all sense of possessing a penis, just because you and she share the same last name and, who knows, perhaps an intermingled bloodline? Of course not! Jason is a fucking idiot (actually, a non-fucking idiot). You’d simply think, “Skincest is best, Deb! Let’s keep it in the nest!” And then you would charm naked Debi Sue Voorhees into sharing her huge, booming, amazingly unenhanced bazonga suck-sacks with you. And after you loosed multiple loads smack between Debi Sue Voorhee’s jamambo-sized milk jugs, you’d sweetly nestle your head upon Debi Sue Voorhees’ naked knockers and say, “Tell me about that time you were on seven episodes of Dallas between 1982 and 1985, won’t you, cuz?”